


A Bloody Defeat

by Kajune



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark, Gore, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kajune/pseuds/Kajune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each slice is pure agony, and it doesn't end until <i>it</i> ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bloody Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, I wrote this to test my ability in writing GORE. Do give me your opinions~

He feels groggy, to say the least.

His body's cold, like it had been dipped into ice and left there until it was about to freeze over. He slowly wakes up, memories of the last minutes before suddenly passing out scattered.

They come back to him in flashes, and Hibari soon remembers that the last thing he did was confront his rival. It was due to the destruction of half of Namimori Junior High's property; windows smashed, grounds littered with garbage, amateur drawings all over the first floor walls, and not to mention, the bloody mess of at least ten students.

It was a blatant call for a fight.

Hibari responded swiftly. The mess had been done overnight, so early in the morning he was on his feet, storming out the gates and all the way to Kokuyo. His miscalculation was not knowing how prepared Mukuro was for him.

He's now trapped inside a place he does not recognize, can hardly see beyond his own form. His black jacket is gone, his feet are bare, connecting them to the cold tiles beneath. His arms are being held above his head, locked in place by chains too strong and sturdy for his physical strength alone.

It's not long after he's awake that he begins to hear footsteps. He knows instantly who it is.

"Kufufu."

Hibari wants to growl, to fight back, but he's weak all over and not entirely capable of processing any thoughts. Nothing beyond the knowledge of being trapped is able to clearly pass through his mind.

The room is dark, pitch black almost, save for the odd light source glowing from above, and the abnormal glimmer of Mukuro's miss-matched eyes. He can see them perfectly, staring at him with intent and admiration, the kind that means someone is so interested in you that you are like a science experiment to them.

"It would be rude of me not to apologize for the vandalism done to your school," Hibari glares at the reminder, "but I'm not sorry, you see. I don't care." The coldness in the tone takes Hibari by surprise. Never once did Mukuro sound so indifferent. He dares not say how worried it makes him feel. "And you will realize, just how little you truly matter to me."

Hibari feels the tip of something sharp press against his chest. He can see, within the circle of light, Mukuro's hand holding a machete. Cold sweat slides down Hibari's forehead at the ideas of what it could be used for.

Would Mukuro go that far?

Somehow, Hibari never thought Vongola's former enemy could do something brutal, bloody, even if it is in both their natures. It's even harder to imagine it now that he's on the receiving end.

"I told you, didn't I? That this town can only have one of us."

Hibari barely has time to recall their first meeting, when their exchange of words consisted of threats to rid Namimori of one another. A sharp, terrible sting draws itself across his chest diagonally. A few buttons fly off from the cut, and Hibari's head falls limp from sheer agony.

That day, Hibari admittedly lost the battle, and has spent every day since then hoping to reclaim his perfect battle record. The idea of fighting for control of the town never returned, since Hibari thought Mukuro no longer interested.

Apparently, he was wrong to think that.

"Does it hurt?"

A playful voice asks before another slash marks him, drawing a near-perfect X on his torso.

Hibari tries to fight the pain, focus every ounce of his willpower to dull it, remove it from his senses. It won't bring him freedom, but it will keep him from looking even more pathetic, and if there's anything Hibari despises more than defeat it's a loss of dignity.

Blood starts to pool in his mouth when another strike draws a straight line across his stomach, cutting past his belly button. He doesn't remember eating anything this morning, and judging by the deepness of the wound, all would likely have fallen out from it.

Mukuro is relentless. He's probably smirking at Hibari's inability to respond, but all Hibari can see are those eyes, those inhuman eyes. The binds on his wrists tighten with every death-promising glare he sends, indicating that Mukuro has full control over them, likely because they are illusions.

Cuts of all lengths and depths decorate his upper body, each one drawing blood and each one driving his senses on fire. It's painful, a burning sensation and the more the floor colors with his blood the less his brain is able to function, and thus the less he is able to escape the torture.

Mukuro's breath ghosts over his lips, bringing curiosity to the front and Hibari is able to the look at the other person, see his glossy blue hair and his green uniform, each with a drop or two of red. The smirk on Mukuro's face is feral and nasty.

Evil.

"Do you understand now, Hibari Kyoya? Who is the better player?"

It's not really a question, Hibari knows, and Mukuro isn't going to give him time to answer. He steps back into the shadows and swings his blade again, letting the sharp edge tear at the fabric and skin below the waist, his aim less focused but the pain still existent.

He tries to run off into some fantasy world in his head, a good memory, pick up a motivational phrase or replay a distracting song in his head, but it doesn't work. The pain is overwhelming and it's only getting worse, only spreading.

His arms begin to strain, radiating pain from above despite the lack of a blade's touch. Hibari steadily grows light-headed, unable to stay awake but neither able to pass out, each new blow sending powerful jolts up his spine, waking him up over and over.

It's like living in a nightmare, one with no way of escaping.

The bloodied tip slices at his cheeks, carefully drawing an X on each, probably standing for KO, dead, done.

When Mukuro brings his face up close a second time, his words are final.

"Good night."

Hibari is forced awake one more time to feel the machete pierce his stomach, go through every organ and rip it apart. The pain is indescribable. When he drifts off again, he manages to shut his eyes, but they do not open again.

 

 


End file.
